


Better Man

by faith_girl222 (faithgirl)



Series: Wizarding & Muggle Lit 101 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithgirl/pseuds/faith_girl222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a summer day in Muggle London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eleniangel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eleniangel).



> Post-OotP; Not-HBP compliant. Originally posted October 9, 2005. Title from Oasis.

Muggle London in the summer was one of Hermione's favourite things. Not that she kept a list or found herself randomly bursting into personalized versions of the "Sound of Music" medley in the shower. It was just magical in it's own way. The hum of central air and people chattering on side walk cafes, just glad that today was not a day that fit the definition of an English summer, was intoxicating. Hermione had found herself going into London proper every day, boarding the tube, getting off at Russell Square Station and just wandering. As she window shopped and met up with old school friends she'd done her best to keep up with since starting Hogwarts, the unread issues of the Prophet built up on her desk.

At the beginning of August she was to meet Charlie. It would be a nice break from the norm, and Hermione dressed differently before leaving for the tube station. She'd spent the summer up till then in jeans and t-shirts and somehow that seemed just a bit too Muggle.

Charlie was waiting inside the Leaky Cauldron, leaning against the bar. The place was fairly crowded, but the Weasley hair would stand out anywhere.

"You came through the Floo?"

"Yes," Charlie replied, and he was still brushing down his shirt. Hermione was surprised that he was, in fact, merely wearing trousers and a T-shirt. More surprised that she had to drag her eyes away. "Too difficult to fly, and the Floo is quick. I'm not much of a morning person," he confided, and then looked comically appalled. "So, there are comic shops and things?"

"Oh, y-yes there are."

"Wicked. I've never really been to any Muggle shops or anything. Dad is mad on them, as you well know, but mum's never been over enthused by the idea of any of us going into one with him."

"They aren't that bad. Or that interesting. I mean, most places don't keep owls hanging about. Or have books that bite."

Charlie opened the door for her as they leave, and Hermione swore that for a second she could feel his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out the door before himself.

Charing Cross Road was bustling and Hermione led him down to the pedestrian crossing. Hermione smiled and ducked her head when she caught Charlie looking at her out the corner of his eye. The light changed before she could think of something to say. 

"I'm glad my suggestion was useful - did you like the books I sent?" she asked when they'd reached the pavement opposite. 

"Oh, yes, very much. The Sandman especially. Very, uh, magical, I guess. In a Muggle way. Which is certainly more mythic and folklore-like than our Everyday Make the Breakfast & Do the Chores view on it." Charlie was looking at her again, and Hermione wasn't certain of what that meant.

And that was ... oddly not frightening.

"The Muggles, I think, must remember something of a time when the divide between the worlds wasn't so extreme. They know about dragons; they might not think they're real anymore, but someone long ago did notice."

"Do you think I could manage to do a Muggle version, one with pictures that didn't move, and have it actually sell?"

"It's possible, so long a you leave any bits about the Wizarding World out. Wouldn't do to have the Ministry down on you, would it?"

"I suppose not. But it would make me feel like a real artist." His smile was broad and amused, so sure of himself, so free. He wasn't anything like Ron, and it was quite possible he'd never been like Ron.

She smiled a bit, and almost missed the shop. Without looking away, she said, "We're here. Comics galore, for your browsing pleasure."

"Thanks." He opened the door and she stood, looking at him, eyebrows raised. He gave the door another push, and disappeared inside, leaving her to catch the door.

***

The rest of the morning was only semi-eventful. Hermione spent it chattering on about the book and ideas and new styles of panel composition and by the time they came round to discussing lunch, she was fairly certain she'd waded into comics territory he really wasn't ready for.

"We should do something for lunch - something Muggle, make a day of it."

"We could go to McDonald's. It's as Muggle as you get."

"What do they have? Chips?"

"Yeah, and burgers and all sorts of things they've branded with 'Mc'. It's a culture reference in it's own right, you know."

"No, I don't. Is it nice? It should be somewhere nice."

"No, if you want nice it's right out."

Charlie laughed. "We could go by a market - cold cuts and bread and whatnot and then maybe do a picnic?" He looked uncertain for a moment, but it evaporated into another grin, and Hermione wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it. "Go over to Green Park."

"And read comics?"

"Yeah, while frantically scribbling down ideas. And getting mustard all of the books and my notes, because I have a habit of getting condiments absolutely everywhere."

They went round to a Sainbury's and Hermione did her best to pay with the Muggle money while keeping Charlie from making inappropriate exclamations about it. 

In the park, in the shade of a tree, they sat and spread their loot.

"Well, this is conspicuously normal, isn't it?" Hermione said.

"Yes," Charlie said, around a big bite of sandwich. They ate in companionable silence for a time, Hermione listening to the sounds of the park in the summer and Charlie flipping the pages of his purchase. His sandwich was held perilously close to the glossy pictures, waving as he jerked his hand in expression.

Hermione watched him mouthing to himself, and found herself wondering if he was reading along. It took her a moment to realize he was muttering things to himself. It became very obvious he was speaking to the text in an entirely scholarly, if not terribly appropriate, manner when he pulled out a pen and began writing furiously in the stick-thin margins.

His sandwich lay forgotten on their cheap blanket, attracting ants.

Eventually, Charlie glanced up, aware he was being watched. "What?"

"Oh, nothing."

"No, really?" Had his grin always been so wolfish and knowing?

Hermione looked away, hoping that warm feeling in her cheeks didn't mean she was blushing.

"Ron likes you, you know," Charlie said abruptly.

"I know. It's really too bad I don't find him attractive."

"Well, you are very straightforward aren't you?" He laughed, and after a beat of uneasy silence, Hermione did as well. "You should hurry up and break his heart, so I don't have to feel so guilty and wanting to do this --"

And he leaned forward, he long lean frame seeming to eat up the distance across the blanket, and kissed her. It wasn't chaste, nor was it as raunchy as she'd imagined it would be. She kissed back, opening her mouth under his, but it still ended a second later, when he pulled back looking dazed.

"I thought he already knew," Hermione breathed, still stomach-clenchingly close to him. "I mean, he did catch me in bed with Harry that once. I'd have thought even a boy as fond of denial as Ron would have got the message."

Charlie wanted to smile, Hermione could tell because the skin around his mouth shifted upward and it was all she could do not to kiss him again, but he did not. "You've slept with Harry? Isn't that something that comes with commitment?"

"Not when you're his best friend."

"Oh. _Oh_ ," he said with weight.

"Yeah."

"So this, this isn't --"

She kissed him again. It was funny how words spoken aloud were so bad at communicating things. She really ought to write a book about it.


End file.
